


Friends and Foes

by TheDVirus



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Affectionate Insults, Belligerent Sexual Tension, Deleted Scenes, Enemies to Friends, Escape, Insults, M/M, Nygmobblepot, Prison, Sarcasm, Unresolved Sexual Tension, prison break - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-11-04 13:16:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10991697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDVirus/pseuds/TheDVirus
Summary: A request from @danniruthvan on Tumblr ;)Some extra shenanigans with Ed and Oz as they escape the Court in Season 3 Episode 19.





	Friends and Foes

‘This… is all…. your fault’.

Ed smirked. From inside the bathroom he could hear Oswald gasping, struggling to form coherent words.

‘I should have remembered your delicate constitution’, Ed said, ‘Those darts pack a wallop huh?’

‘I’ll give you a wall-urgh!’

Ed’s smirk widened as Oswald’s witty rejoinder was immediately drowned out by the wet, unpleasant sound of heaving.  
He hoped Oswald wouldn’t be much longer. So far the only thing that had escaped were the contents of Oswald’s stomach and a patrol of guards could come along at any moment. Their flight from the cages would not go unnoticed forever and Ed was fairly sure the building was under heavy surveillance.

After a few more minutes, a much paler looking Oswald emerged from the bathroom accompanied by the sound of a toilet flushing.  
Realizing Ed was relishing his discomfort, Oswald straightened up, mustered as much dignity as he could and brushed past Ed to resume their search for a way out.

‘I’m not leaving without my effects’, Ed commented as they headed towards a door leading to the maintenance stairwell.

‘Effects?’ Oswald scoffed, ‘You mean that neon green eyesore and that ridiculous bowler hat? Maybe the Court has done the city a favour and burnt them’.

Ed pushed past him and opened the door to the stairwell. 

‘Says the man with disco vampire hair’, he said snidely as he peeked into the stairwell to check for guards, ‘This way’.

‘What makes you so sure?’ Oswald asked, unsure if he should be more irritated at Barbara coming up with the less than flattering description of his hair or Ed.

‘Because unlike you I wasn’t manhandled here with a bag over my head’, Ed said.

He led the way as they began to climb the stairs. Ed counted mentally as they climbed. He was fairly sure they had to climb seven flights.

‘No’, Oswald retorted, ‘You were just handed over like a slab of meat’.

The recollection of his abduction was still a sore spot.  
What good were an army of freaks if they weren’t around when it counted?!

‘How’d you know about that?’ Ed asked, unable to keep a tinge of self-consciousness from his voice.

‘Jim told me’.

Ed’s mouth tightened at the mention of Gordon’s name.

‘I wasn’t ‘handed over’’, he corrected, ‘I went with them willingly. I wanted to find out their secrets’.

‘So, you’re telling me you went with a bunch of strangers because they promised to give you something you wanted?’

‘It wasn’t like that!’ Ed insisted before changing the subject, ‘And you’re calling Gordon ‘Jim’ again?’

‘Jealous?’

Ed physically stopped and made sure Oswald saw him roll his eyes.

‘Oh please. I’m just confused why you seem to be on such amiable terms with someone who let you take the fall for a murder _he_ committed’.

‘Jim never tried to murder _me’._

They climbed in silence for a time.  
Ed tried to control his breathing: the beating the guards has dished out had left him feeling rather tender. Not that he would give Oswald the satisfaction of knowing that.  
He realised gradually that it wasn’t his heavy breathing he was hearing.  
He glanced over his shoulder and saw Oswald was leaning heavily on the rail as he climbed, one hand protectively held over his side.  
Despite himself, Ed felt a momentary tinge of sympathy mixed with guilt before he buried it down beneath vitriol and anger.

‘Getting tired?’ he taunted.

Oswald scoffed harshly and redoubled his efforts.

‘Of you? Take a guess’.

Silence resumed save for Oswald’s laboured breathing which Ed tried his best to ignore. After a time though, the machinations of his brain as it tried to provide him with a distraction forced another question to leave his lips.

‘How did you survive?’

Oswald didn’t answer. Another glance over his shoulder confirmed to Ed that Oswald had heard him. He could tell from the smug glitter in those cold, pale eyes.

‘I guess I shouldn't be surprised’, Ed sniffed, ‘You have a bad habit of not explaining yourself’.

‘Says the man who had to make sure I was ‘real’. I thought ghosts didn’t exist Edward?’

Ed’s eyes narrowed at Oswald’s taunts. Why were they hitting so close to home?! It wasn’t like Oswald knew about the…hallucinations.

‘I told you not to call me that’, he said simply.

They climbed the rest of the stairs in silence.

**  
‘Excuse me?’

The cook turned at the unfamiliar voice and was confronted by two equally unfamiliar figures in boiler suits.

‘What do you call a tavern of blackbirds?’ the taller figure asked.

The cook stared at him dumbly and reached beneath the table beside him.

Ed smacked him across the face with the answer without a second thought.

‘A crow-bar!’ he smiled, spinning the crowbar dexterously in his fingers as the cook slumped down unconscious.

‘No you don’t’.

Ed’s brow furrowed.

‘Excuse me?’

‘Blackbirds and crows are different species’, Oswald said, examining his fingernails.

‘I meant ‘black’ and ‘birds’ as two separate words’, Ed said, annoyed, as he checked beneath the table. 

He swore under his breath as he saw the cook had flicked a switch beside a red light that was blinking on and off.  
A silent alarm of some kind.

‘No you didn’t’, Oswald said, leaning against the door frame.

‘Is this really the time for an ornithological or grammatical debate?’ Ed snapped.

‘Why? Is it distracting you?’

Ed turned and his eyes suddenly widened.  
Oswald frowned as he tried to discern the expression on Ed’s face.

‘I missed you Oswald’, Ed said.

Oswald was about to ask what he meant when he saw Ed was pointing the gun he had been carrying right at him.  
He ducked on instinct just as Ed pulled the trigger.  
Oswald leapt to his feet after he heard the ‘bang’ of the pistol discharging and lunged for Ed with his shiv but stopped dead as he heard a noise from behind him.  
Swivelling in place, he saw a guard crumpled in the doorway of the kitchen, right behind where Oswald had been standing.  
Ed raised an eyebrow with satisfaction as Oswald put his actions together.

‘But my aim is getting better’, he finished.

‘It couldn’t get much worse could it?’ Oswald muttered, tucking his shiv away once he made sure Ed had the safety back on the pistol.

They could both hear voices beginning to echo from somewhere in the stairwell.  
They didn’t have much time.  
Oswald shoved the dead guard down the stairs and closed the kitchen door.  
He jammed a nearby chair under the door handle to buy them some time.

Ed huffed with disappointment: it seemed he would have to forget about retrieving his suit.

‘Help me with this grate’, Ed commanded.

Oswald looked incredulously at the floor height vent.

‘An air vent? Really?’

‘Would you prefer digging our way out with a spoon or crawling through sewage? It’s a cliché escape route for a reason and this way we don’t need to worry about the guards following us’.

Oswald, convinced by Ed’s argument (mainly because he didn’t have a better idea), came over to Ed and grabbed one side of the vent. Ed began to jimmy the grate open with the crowbar on the other side.

‘So, you electrocuted people at a chess tournament, robbed a bunch of banks, totally reinvented yourself and for what?’ Oswald asked, puffing with exertion, ‘To end up in some weird birdcage waiting to be murdered. Brilliant plan!’

‘I’m sure Gotham is grateful for the reprieve’.

‘Nobody even knows you’re gone actually’, Oswald said vindictively, ‘They just think you escaped police custody’.

With one final combined effort, the vent grate came loose. 

‘Speaking of brilliant plans why get captured to come kill someone who the court was probably going to kill anyway?’ Ed asked, tucking the crowbar into his waistband.

‘For them it was business’, Oswald said, placing the grate to one side, ‘For me it’ll be a pleasure. Kudos on your new terrifying name by the way’.

‘You’re one to talk’.

‘The difference between you and I is that I have actually done things to make people afraid of me. You did, what? Failed to kill a mayor? Twice?’

Ed didn’t reply.  
He got down on his knees and looked into the vent.  
This would work.

‘Hey Edward: how is The Riddler like a blank dictionary?’

‘We usually know a lot more than the people looking at us’, Ed replied immediately.

‘You’re both at a loss for words’, Oswald said, kneeling down as he eyed the vent with distaste.

‘Oh _very_ clever. It take you long to come up with that all by yourself?’

‘Riddles aren’t hard’, Oswald shrugged off-handedly, ‘After all, anyone can do them’.

‘After you’, Ed said, waving a hand invitingly.

‘Why?’ Oswald asked, eyes narrowed, ‘Don’t want me looking at your butt?’

Ed raised the pistol again.  
Oswald’s eyes nearly crossed as the barrel was directed between his eyes.

‘I’ve had quite enough backstabbing from you, thank you’, Ed deadpanned.

‘Is that a pistol in your pocket or-‘ Oswald began but was silenced by Ed clicking the safety off.

‘Just get in the vent’.


End file.
